


The Pomegranate Act

by HotCoals



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Mythology References, School, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCoals/pseuds/HotCoals
Summary: They are more on the stage--more than themselves, more than their characters.Is this what the ancients felt when they played gods?





	The Pomegranate Act

Everyone knew that talented people would have talented children. As imprints of their parents, there was no such thing as a baby being blank slates. From the moment they were born they carried over genetics that have been passed down from the most distant ancestor. Children are bound by their parents, by their history. So, it came to no one's surprise when Rose was born with a head full of Weasley red and Granger wit, after all, she was the first born of _the_ Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. She was made of two-thirds of the Golden Trio, no one else can say the same (except Hugo). 

Rose thought that her childhood was peaceful, especially when compared to the number of rules her parents broke before they turned 18. She was always surrounded by family, each one equally talented and famous. She never felt odd about there status in the wizarding world. It was normal to have heroes in the family, especially since the war was not so long ago. Loud meals at the Burrow, quidditch with her cousins, the occasional visit from her Muggle side of the family, and reading in her favourite armchair took up most of her time. She didn't want for anything.

However when she stood on Platform 9 3/4 for the first time, she realised that she wasn't ready. She felt the legacy of heroes behind her back, but none of their bravado in her heart. She desperately wanted to be ready, to be confident. It was one thing to have adults stare during trips to Diagon Alley as a child, and another to have hundred of children--her age and older, whisper beside her as if she couldn't hear them. 

She kept her head up high back then, with her delicate face tilted up in false confidence. 

“Do you think she’s a know-it-all like her mum?”

“Or maybe a dunce like her dad.”

“Its not fair to be in the same year as her and still have the Potters.”

“Oh Merlin, they breed like rabbits.”

"Do you think its true what they say about red-heads? Especially a Weasley?"

They talked about mum and dad. They talked about her, from the color of her hair to the number of freckles that dotted her nose. Nothing was spared from their scrutiny.There were kind smiles, but more curious stares and glares. Her chest tightened, her palms were wet, and she felt a chill run down her spine. She never felt the need to be cautious when she was with family. Back home she had her parents and Hugo. Back home she could visit any cousin, from Albus to Victorie. Back home she didn't have to be anyone else but herself. Everyone was grounded, they were more than what the Daily Prophet painted over the years. But now, James and Albus weren't her cousins, they were the Potters. She wasn't Rose; she was a Granger and a Weasley. 

She remembered stories of Rita Skeeter and Lavender Brown. She thought it was funny back then, the sour face her mum would make every time they reminisced over their antics. How her mum would always try to change the subject or clench her gentle hands into small fists from time to time. It all made sense: the violation of privacy, the speculations, the pressure. 

James and Albus stood by her, and old family friends came one after another as she waited for the Hogwarts Express. They unknowingly blocked her from all the strangers and she was grateful for it. She said her good-byes to her parents and gave them a kiss on the cheek. She smiled and waved like nothing was wrong, but as she boarded the carriage with a firm resolve. She promised herself that _no one_ was going to crawl under her skin the same way again.


End file.
